


We may not have risen the cup, but I'll always hold you up.

by Not_An_Author_ButITry



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Chicago Blackhawks, Coming Out, Happy Ending, Loss, M/M, Stanley Cup Finals, Tampa Bay Lightning, captain serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:37:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_An_Author_ButITry/pseuds/Not_An_Author_ButITry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny may have fucked up, but he'll fix it. They'll be better, they always end up back in one-another's arms. this time the solution is just a little more... public.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll make it better

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy, this has not been betaed so if you see something throw a comment my way. or don't, that's cool too.
> 
> ALSO! this is totally unrelated to my tyjo/pally fic. Just an FYI incase you've read/will read that one.

The sorrow of a game six loss in double OT. Losing the cup 1-0 to such a young, inexperienced team. Johnny cringed at the thought of how he and Pat must have made guys his age feel back when they were an unstoppable duo on the ice together. Not to say they weren't still amazing, just getting older.  
And then he saw what he was dreading, what he dreads every year, his biggest motivation to hoist Lord Stanley: tears welling up in his favorite pair of bright blue eyes. Pat was doing his best to hold it together, but there were still interviews to be conducted after the handshake line and a slew if postgame formalities. And Johnny knew he wasn’t helping, always putting it off. Always putting off Pat’s requests, his pleas, to tell the world what they had.  
Johnny grimaces, knowing he’ll forever believe that he is more than a small part of their loss, the argument he and Pat had prior to the playoffs. The argument they rehashed before the Finals Series and hit a peak before this game.  
“Fine!” Johnny had chided.  
Pat’s sadness melted in to fury “Fuck you Johnny!”  
“Why do you want this so bad?! It’s not that big of a deal!” Johnny threw his hands up in frustrated annoyance.  
And Pat dissolved entirely in to resignation. “Wow Johnny.” He shook his head miserably. “Wow. I mean… wow. Johnny I love you. I want the world to know that. Know that you are mine. And…” Pat heaved a sigh “and I really thought you may have loved me too. I really did Johnny.”  
“That’s not fair!” Johnny bellowed with outrage as he spun to face Pat, but his face. The sadness. Johnny’s fury faded in to regret. “Oh Pat no. That really is not fair. I do love you.” Johnny stepped in to Pat’s space, tried to draw him in to an apologetic embrace only to have Pat shake him off. “Patrick, I love you. I really do. I… I just. I don’t know if I’m ready. If I’ll ever be ready. But Pat” he waited until Patrick looked up, “Pat I do love you. I love you, and I promise; I’m going to work on myself. I’m going to get there for you. We’ll be good. We will be, and we’ll be together. Please Pat, please believe that.”  
Johnny recoiled at the recollection of Patrick sulking out of the front door after that. Without so much as another word, not even a goodbye.  
Johnny’s dazed remembrance was interrupted by a marose clap on the back, swiveling on his skates to see a downcast Duncs “You really should stop the staring.” Duncs chuckled humorlessly, “The whole world already thinks you’re fucking.”  
Kaner was had just pulled his mic off from an interview with Pierre McGuire, Johnny knew he was next, but the tears finally started to prickle up in Pat’s eyes, one sliding down his left cheek. Johnny was there with his arms thrown around pat before he knew it, leaving Duncs behind. Pierre leaned over the bench saying something to Johnny who didn’t even hear the actual words. Simply leaned in kissing the tears from Patrick’s flushed cheeks before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning to Pierre and calmly asking “Yes?”  
Pierre McGuire just stood there, mouth agape, as silence gradually fell over the Tampa arena.  
Johnny stared at Pierre expectantly for the interrogation of his play and what made them loose the cup. But there was nothing. Just staring. Then Johnny realized what he’d just done, and there was a moment of horror that was replaced with almost smug resignation.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
Now one may believe that there was some big hullabaloo made about a pair of hockey players smooching on the ice, but apparently it’s not that big of an issue for most people. There is an unnerving number of people that knew/believed they were together in a sense more than just bros.  
There were still some who were trying to say that it was just some weird bro moment. They were just so close and had known one-another for so long that they had a weird moment of blurred commiseration.  
But then the “you-can-play” video came out with Pat tucked under Johnny’s arm, platinum and black engagement ring on his hand being displayed prominently on Johnny’s chest, and there was no more denying the fact that they were indeed a couple. An engaged couple.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
The best part of that night, in Pat’s mind at least, was really the morning after; when they’d finally made it home. Well, to Johnny’s apartment.


	2. line mates for life -19&88

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they finally get home its hard to think about it, the loss, when they have one-another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK. so I've never actually written anything smutty before and I took the little one-shot coming out fic to sort of explore and see if I could by elaborating on it. I mean I don't really know, any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Pat hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d left the guys back at the airport. He’d had the decency to seem sad around the guys, they had just lost the cup, but even je knows he did a horrible job of disguising the way he was practically buzzing with excitement. Johnny had kissed him, he’d kissed him in front of all of Tampa. In front of an NBC camera and a stupid Piere McGuire. Johnny had pressed his lips to Pat’s without any hesitation and acted like it wasn’t the biggest, best, most perfectly amazing thing he could have possibly done; and very likely the best moment of Pat’s life. Definitely better than winning the cup. The world knew that Jonathan Toews was HIS. Pat owned that perfect face, that perfect body, that more the perfect ass. All of him belonged to Pat and, best of all, he was Johnny’s.  
The moment they dropped their bags Pat threw himself on Johnny, lips messily making contact. And clothes were being shucked quickly. “Tazer” Patrick moaned, hands just trying to feel as much of Johnny’s skin.   
Johnny just moaning in return. Before Pat even managed to get his own pants off Johnny was naked and tripping in to his oversized bed. He shimmied up the bed while pat shoved his dress slacks off with his boxer-briefs; Pat took a moment to appreciate their constricting nature, hiding an inconvenient hard-on he’d managed to cope with on the plane when he’d left a chirping Sharpy to sit on Johnny’s lap. An action that fortunately got rid of Teuvo, his only real motivation there, but when Johnny placed a hand high on his thigh and pressed an endearing kiss to Pat’s neck, Pat ended up a little too excited. You can’t really blame a guy for getting turned on by his own boyfriend.  
Pat knelt on the bed, it dipping under his weight. “Jeez Johnny. You are so fucking gorgeous.” They hadn’t had sex since before the playoffs and Pat was craving Johnny, marveling at his… everything.   
Johnny had already pulled the lube out and a condom that Pat swiped off of the bed as he crawled on top of Johnny “Not tonight.” Pat smiled down at him deviously.   
“Patri-“ But Johnny was cut off by press of Pats lips.   
Not even giving Johnny time to assist Pat slicked his fingers up and went back to kissing Johnny before slipping two fingers in his own ass, the sting was muffled by sheer desire, Pat just wanted to get Johnny inside of him and the idea of having to open him-self up was just annoying. It had been too long since he’d last been fucked though to forgo doing so.   
Definitely before he was ready, pat pressed a third finger in and pressed away from Johnny’s lips with a yelp, “Sorry, sorry” Patrick patted Johnny’s chest.  
Johnny propped himself up on his elbows “Pat?” he looked a bit concerned, turned on, but definitely concerned.   
“Yeah. Yeah.” Pat moaned as the sting faded.  
Johnny looked up and around Pat, increasing the awkwardness of the already less then perfect angle Pat had on his own ass. “Jeez Patrick.” Johnny flopped back with a groan, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Take it slow.”  
And Pat took that as the challenge it most certainly was not; slicking up his hole excessively, the way Johnny liked it, and sliding down on to his cock.  
Pat let out a yelp as he slid down slowly, Johnny letting out noises that clearly meant his brain had gone to mush.   
Pat had worked himself on Johnny’s cock enough to finally bottom out with a sigh and a shiver. Johnny canting his hips to press in to Pat the way they both knew would hit Pat’s prostate.   
As Pat rode Johnny’s dick a slew of expletives and moaned names culminated in Johnny moaning “Pat! Pat! Patrick! Oh Patrick pleas, Pat.” As his orgasm racked his entire body, pressing warm and wet up in to Pat. After a moment, softening with a still hard Pat atop him, Johnny flipped them over. Pressing Pat in to the bed and pulling out. Shimmying down Pats body, planting kisses and taking a moment to suck at Pat’s nipples, hard and there for the biting. Johnny continued down, sucking and nipping, getting to Pat’s thighs Johnny nursed a bruise in to fruition; kissing and sucking before finally sliding a tongue up Pat’s dick. He sucked in the head, lightly tonging the slit, and swallowing as much of Pat as he could; which honestly wasn’t a whole lot, Johnny was man enough to admit that Pat was way better at getting a dick down his throat thankyouverymuch. One hand stroking Pat to Orgasm while the other held his hips down.   
It wasn’t long before Johnny had Patrick screaming his name and coming down Johnny’s throat.  
Johnny recoiled with a bit of a strangled cough, “thanks a lot ass-hole” Johnny chided with horse bemusement.  
“Fuck you!” Pat retorted as Johnny plopped down half on top of Pat. “I could have taken my time to open my-self up properly.” Pat say up with a wince, crossing his arms over his chest. “This ass-hole didn’t make you wait. I fucking could have… If I’d wanted to.” Pat shied on that last bit.  
“Oh shut up.” Johnny tugged Pat back in to him, the two lazily making out until dozing off.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
The next morning Johnny woke to a soft look on Pats face as he pressed soft kisses to Johnny’s neck. One of the best feelings Johnny could imagine, until Pat wrapped an already slicked up hand around both of their morning woods. Stroking until they each reached orgasm, Pat first, Johnny figured he wouldn’t chirp him too much for it, he’d probably been up for a while anyway.   
They were a mess and needed a shower; which Johnny was resigned, in the best possible way, would devolve in to more sex. But in that moment, Pat curled in to Johnny’s chest, Johnny knew it was finally time to use something he bought nearly six years ago; on a rare sober day after their first cup win.   
“Hold on” Johnny reached over Pat to the nightstand on the side of the bed he usually slept on. He dug for a few moments before pulling out a small black box with red detailing, don’t judge, he knows its cheesy, he was pretty young when this crossed his mind the first time.   
The actual timing never seemed right though, but the idea of waking up to Patrick every morning for the rest of his life was the greatest thing he could imagine. Better than ten Stanley Cups.   
But right then, the two of them doing exactly what Johnny wants for the rest of his life, right then he could feel himself itching to ask like never before.  
A messy sated Patrick sat up, eyes going wide as Johnny opened the box to reveal a platinum band with a single black groove in around the center, inside there was an inscription filled with red polymers-or-something “line mates for life. –JT&PK” (yes, yes! Johnny knew it was stupid! He was young!). He held it up so Pat could see the inscription scrawled in tiny script.   
Pat’s eyes welled with tears as a massive grin spread across his face.   
Johnny slipped the ring on to the hand Patrick held up, entwining their fingers, “Patrick Kane, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband? I want this” he motioned between them with his free hand “to wake up to your beautiful everything every morning, forever.” and continued to inform Patrick of everything that was beautiful and perfect about him, even if he did have a shit playoff beard.   
~~~~~~~~~~  
After a shower that did indeed devolve in to more sex, Pat on his knees precariously on the wet shower floor with Johnny’s cock down his throat. Johnny revisiting his thought from the night before, Pat really did have a talented mouth, until Patrick’s tongue lapped just right around his uncut foreskin and all thoughts of anything melted from Johnny’s synapses.  
The pair stared longingly across the kitchen island where pat sat as Johnny finished making sandwiches, both avoiding their still constantly ringing phones, Pat chuckled at his brand new engagement ring. All sleek and a perfect fit.   
“What?” Johnny laughed back, really concerned about how he was going to explain how cheesy the inscription was: even more concerned about when he’d finally tell Pat about how long he’d had it, or about when he’d stood out on a dock in lake Toews after his bender and the cabbie and the fucking around, not that they were exclusive back then, with the ring in his hand ready to chuck it as far as it would go. He ended up crying over the ring, even slept with it cradled in his hands for days. Maybe Pat would never ask when and Johnny would never let any of the times he’s stared, cried, even gotten off because of that stupid piece of metal. Expensive metal. But hoping against Patrick Kane’s curiosity was like hoping against an earthquake.   
“I was just thinking how glad I am that I’m right handed.” Pat smirked suggestively.  
The obvious joke was lost on Johnny.  
“You know” Pat made an obscene jerking motion with his right hand,   
Johnny colored. Going red, their morning escapades had been pushed out of the front of his thoughts. But now they flooded in from the periphery of his thoughts.   
“I was still kind of a mess.” Pat shrugged, still smug and sleazy looking.  
Johnny just laughed walking around the counter to drag his new fiancé out of his chair and in to a deep kiss, nothing desperate, just all of the love Johnny could muster for the most perfect person he could imagine. “I love you Patrick.” The whisper was in to Pats lips, and Johnny didn’t even give Pat the chance to reply in turn before pressing their lips back together. Greedy and determined this time, with Pat’s hands splayed on his chest slipping around Johnny’s waist and pushing higher on his toes for a more level angle.  
The best day of Pat’s life, he’ll forever believe, was the day after he lost the cup.


End file.
